


Unexpected

by inkstainedwretch



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: David is mortal for the first two chapters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/inkstainedwretch
Summary: Three surprises, at three different points in the story of David and Lestat. Set before, during, and after Body Thief.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read any VC books past Body Thief. This has nothing to do with [Lure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514241?view_full_work=true).

It was a matter of weeks before that horrid notion of going to the desert would enter Lestat’s mind, but neither of us knew that. I had grown so used to walking into my study and seeing him there, it hardly changed anything except for which chair I ended up taking. Indeed, I had found he favored the chair that faced away from the window, because – and I had heard this from his mind more than once – he liked the look of me when the moon was full, when its light fell beside the lamplight over my face.

I was already in too deep, but I hadn’t yet realized it.

He was wearing something that verged on absurd; a white jacket, his usual sunglasses, and jeans that squeezed at his legs. I’d found, however, that Lestat looked gorgeous no matter what he was wearing. Years of reading about the man had given me the impression that his good looks had to have been exaggerated. In my whole life, I had never been so wrong.

He stood, slipped the glasses off, and brushed a hand through his hair. The tiniest drops of water flicked away from the ends, matching the dew on his shoulders. He must have flown high enough to invite ice crystals to form, on his way over. And now he was in my study, examining an old compass sitting on a shelf beside me. Sometimes, the fact of my friendship with him was the only thing left that really provoked my fascination.

“This thing has to be older than me,” he remarked, tracing a finger over the foggy glass.

“Only by a little,” I said with a smile.

“Do you know,” he turned to me, “I only just realized last night that this century is almost over? Just ten years, and then suddenly it’ll be two even millennia on the calendar.”

He looked distant for a moment, and I saw that he was thinking of the people he had known, people he had hated and loved and been absolutely terrified of, who were all much older.

“I wonder what it’s like,” he muttered, “to be around for so long, your very age makes you a relic.”

“I could ask you that, myself,” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Yes, and I imagine your younger colleagues might ask it of you,” he grinned.

“Few of them have nerve enough to say it aloud, but yes.”

He laughed, and then he reached a hand over to smooth down a lock of my hair. His smile was soft, as his palm covered my cheek, and then he gently slid my glasses up to where they belonged on my nose. His hand wasn’t nearly as cold as I’d expected, and I didn’t dare scan him. I knew if I did, I’d only find that warm flush of affection that was always present when he did things like this, and I wasn’t completely sure what to do about that just yet.

“By simple merit of probability, you’ve already lived longer than millions of humans ever could,” he said. “Just look at what it’s made of you.”

His hand didn’t move. It was all I could do to look at him, at this perfect preservation of youth, the kind people my age so frequently envied. I didn’t envy him, though. I could see the flashes of misery that sometimes visited him, the way he would tug at a lock of hair and silently lament the futility of trying to cut it. I knew his history, even the things he had never put into his books. There was more there than a pretty face, even if it was truly exceptional.

“You’re like a living library,” he traced the side of his knuckle around my jaw. “So much life, so much knowledge…”

His smile faltered, the way it did when he thought about my age, how near to completion my life really was. For that reason, when he began to lean down toward me, I flinched back.

“Lestat…” I looked pointedly at him. He was daydreaming again, and this was a conversation we’d had before. But then, he shocked me entirely with a soft laugh, a gentle shake of his head, and the flick of his eyes down to my mouth.

“Don’t worry, that’s not what I’m after,” he said softly. “I just want to kiss you.”

My confusion was so great that I couldn’t put a single word together in my mind. I just blinked at him for a moment, wondering what in god’s name to make of this, what kind of game he was trying to play, until finally I settled on the most important question to ask.

“…why?”

He looked stunned for half a moment, and then he just shook his head again. His smile was almost indulgent, when he looked back up at me.

“Because I love you, obviously,” he said. “Why, would you rather I didn’t?”

I felt like such an idiot, that he’d rendered me speechless twice, but I could hardly process what he was saying. This was not the first time Lestat had said he’d loved me, but up until this moment, I had thought it was an expression of friendship. What else could it be, after all? What reason would this golden-haired, all-powerful masterpiece have to love me? My confusion was fed by some willful blindness, of course, since I had read – and heard – story after story of Lestat’s considerable capacity for love.

I had to take a bit of a deep breath to center myself, but thankfully my voice was steady.

“I don’t mind, no,” I said softly.

Lestat’s whole face lit up, all but glowing with happiness, and then without another moment’s hesitation, his lips were on mine. They were soft, a little cold, but stunningly gentle. I had never so much as allowed myself to daydream about this, but I was sure they would all have paled in comparison. Just as easily, he drew back, and I found that breathing had become a task that required concentration.

“You still with me?” he asked, and I felt his breath on my lips, surprisingly warm.

I just nodded, and I found myself leaning close to him again without really thinking about it.

“Shall I do that again?” he was so close, it was terrifying how close he was.

“…yes,” I nodded again.

He kissed me with a little more force this time, his hand coming around to the back of my neck. I reached up to touch his cheek, feeling how impossibly smooth it was, and the softness of his hair where it fell from behind his ear. I felt him open his lips just the slightest bit, felt the slippery edge of his tongue. I opened to him, reached out to explore with my own, tasting the heat of his mouth…and a watery metallic flavor I did not welcome.

I pulled away and looked at him, trying to convey just how unamused I was with my eyes.

“You taste like blood,” I said flatly.

He looked at me like that should have been obvious.

“Were you rather I were cold as carved stone?” he asked. “I thought you’d prefer me at least a little warmer.”

“So, you decided the best time to kiss me was less than an hour after you’d murdered someone.”

“Of course not!” he all but rolled his eyes. “I didn’t _kill_ them, I only took a little.”

His hand was still on me, and he looked, of all things, impatient. I could have laughed, were I not so fixated on the lingering taste, one that had me reflexively feeling for a split in my lip.

“…go rinse your mouth out,” I said.

He looked affronted. “David, really?”

“Yes, really,” I lifted a hand and gently pushed him off of me. “You are not kissing me while you taste of someone’s blood.”

He sighed heavily, but he stood upright and walked quickly to the bathroom around the corner. I heard the sink running, the splash of water, and I took a long drink of my tea. Thankfully, it was easy enough to excise, and soon I heard his footsteps coming back. In his mind, he was thinking mainly about how even as a mortal, Louis had never minded when his mouth had tasted like blood. I did my best not to laugh.

When he returned, he was wiping his mouth with a handkerchief that carried a few rust-brown spots in the middle. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket with an irritated look and lifted an eyebrow at me.

“Happy?” he asked.

I did laugh, now.

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

I honestly didn’t expect him to pick back up where he’d left off, knowing how he could get when he was in a mood. But then, he took me by one hand and drew me up off of my chair. I made the quickest noise of confusion before his arms were around me, and he was leaning in so his forehead touched mine. His eyes were so blue, up close like this.

“Don’t worry about the teeth,” he said with a smile. “I’ve got it.”

Then, he was kissing me like he really meant it, his arms holding me close, the zipper of his jacket snagging a bit on my dressing gown, deepening slowly until I felt a pull in my chest I hadn’t known in ages. True to his word, I did not feel his teeth, but I did feel hunger, hunger and desire I had never expected from him. God, how long had it been? What the hell sort of couple did we make? What would someone think if they saw us through the window?  

“Relax, David,” Lestat whispered. “Do you think you’re the first mortal I’ve fallen for?”

I hardly needed to scan him to feel the sheer sincerity in his mind. It hit me all at once what all this meant, who it was holding me, what he was saying. This was more than I could handle.

“Alright,” I finally said. “Alright, I believe you.”

He smiled and held me close to him, and it was like being held in the arms of a statue, how solid he was.

“If I’m really only going to have you for a little while…” he mumbled.

All the breath left me in a great rush, and then suddenly I found myself laughing.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Why not?”

He kissed my cheek, and then he stepped back, looking fondly at me for a moment before letting me go.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Then he made his way back down the hall, swiftly enough that I hardly heard the back door opening and closing. I sat back down in my chair, and suddenly there wasn’t a book on my shelves that seemed worth my attention. I just shook my head, bringing one hand to my cheek like a lovestruck boy. I had always known my life was far from ordinary, but it seemed that there had been one final surprise waiting for me.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a matter of days before Lestat would come to me with hard eyes, bent on taking the life from me. I woke late in the morning, having spent the better part of the night out, making an effort at socializing. I could tell before I even opened my eyes that I had company, someone beside me in bed, and since I couldn’t remember taking anyone home the night before, this was cause for some concern.

What was much more alarming was the stillness, the silence, and the absolute lack of warmth. Whoever this was, they weren’t breathing. I wasn’t awake enough to put the pieces together just yet, and so I jumped back in a panic, scrambling out of bed and throwing on the light switch with some difficulty.

Of course, it was Lestat. He didn’t look hurt, that I could see. He was just lying face down on the bed. It was eerie, seeing how still he was, the rise and fall of his chest completely absent. His shoes were on the floor, kicked off at an odd angle, and I found myself strangely appreciative of his consideration. Out of curiosity, I scanned his mind, just the briefest look, and I found that he was dreaming of Claudia, playing a piano that had gold worked into the wood and looking at him with doubtful eyes.

“…I suppose I’m not opening the curtains in here today,” I muttered, pulling off the blankets that had tangled around my leg.

I spent the day much the way I had when he’d come in and collapsed on my floor, albeit with much less desperate worry about his recovery. I kept the lights on in the bedroom, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference, and I even put the covers back over him, just because I felt like I should. I was at my desk, when he finally awoke, writing a letter to a former colleague. I faced away from him, so I didn’t see when he sat up, but I heard clear as day the great intake of breath, followed by the sound of the blankets being shoved off.

“Well, hello,” he said sleepily.

“Hello,” I said, glancing back at him. “Sleep well?”

“Like the dead,” he grinned.

I shook my head as I stood, tucking the letter into a bag I meant to take to the post office in the morning. As I passed by him on my return, Lestat reached for me, taking hold of the hem of my shirt.

“Come here,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to get up yet.”

I told myself it was only the late hour that let me indulge him. I slipped out of my shoes and lay down beside him, hardly having time to settle in before he wrapped an arm around me, pressing himself right up against me. I gasped aloud and flinched back, feeling a shock of cold every place his skin touched mine. It had been a warm evening, so I hadn’t been wearing a shirt since I’d gotten back from the swim I’d taken earlier. I hadn’t thought much of it, but now I felt remarkably exposed.

“God, you’re _freezing_ ,” I said.

“Yes, and you’re not,” he followed me, nestling in close to me again.

It was clear he wasn’t going to give me much space, and though I made a disgruntled sound, it _was_ nice to have him close to me. The chill wasn’t as intense, now that I knew what was coming, and begrudgingly I leaned into him, enjoying the weight of him, if not the cold. His face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, and he pressed a feather-soft kiss to the skin with a happy hum.

“Mmm, you smell just luscious,” he said.

“Lestat…” I said sternly.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he laughed softly. “I fed late last night. That’s why I didn’t get in until you were asleep. Spent the night chasing a frightened little thing.”

There was a pang of dismay in my stomach. “Did you kill them?”

“Of course not,” he leaned back to grin at me. “I killed the man she was frightened of.”

I studied him for a moment, how the fabric of his shirt had wrinkled, the undone button midway down that showed a peek of skin. I could still see where it had burned, little ghosts of the scorch marks he had worn for days and days. He had been so gut wrenched, the night before he’d acquired those marks. It seemed so far away from us now, with the way he was relaxed in my arms, speaking dreamily of the man he’d killed.

“Of everything I have seen in my long, eventful life,” I murmured, “you are by far the strangest.”

He leaned in and kissed me, soft and slow.

“I love you too, David.”

His hand came up to my shoulder, and with lazy drags of his fingertips, he traced the slopes and angles of me. Across my collarbone, up one side of my neck, dragging softly along my jaw. It seemed that he hadn’t warmed up to me so much as I’d cooled down to him, even when he ventured down again, his skin smooth on my sternum. I didn’t think terribly much of it; it must have been a strange perspective, given how he’d lived in this same body for a short while. Lestat had always been a curious creature, for better or worse.

Then, he looked up at me again, and there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze.

“You wear it so well,” he murmured, and then he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth.

For a moment, I thought my heart might have stopped. I hadn’t expected for him to do this again, once he’d gotten his body back. Vampires didn’t do that…did they?

“Lestat, what are you…” I trailed off at the sight of the smile on his face.

“What do you think now, David?” he asked, sliding the whole of his cold, cold hand down my chest. “Are you still afraid you’ll lose yourself? Personally, I have faith in your new body’s resilience. I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

That wasn’t the part I was having trouble with.

“I thought…” I was having trouble finding the words to say it. “You said in your books…”

He looked genuinely surprised, which I hadn’t ever seen on him before. Not on this face, anyway.

“You mean, you don’t know?” he laughed softly. “Even the head of the Talamasca doesn’t know? Oh, that’s delightful. I thought for sure, if you’d found Marius’s work…”

“Hold on,” I said, “if you _can_ , why do your books say otherwise?”

He sighed heavily.

“I blame Louis, personally,” he shook his head. “He didn’t mean to ruin it for me, but he did. He told Daniel too much, and it scared the human editors to death. What didn’t get removed entirely was watered down with metaphor.”

I actually laughed, now, but Lestat looked less than amused.

“They’re so ludicrously easy to upset,” he rolled his eyes. “I have my early drafts, you know, before they were cut to pieces. Perhaps I’ll let you read them sometime…if you think you can stomach it. You’re a bit of a traditional sort, David. I’m not sure you’ll look at me the same way, knowing all that.”

“Has Louis read them?” I asked.

“Oh, of course,” he said. “I think Armand did too, at some point. Maybe Marius. I don’t know, I lost a copy of one on the island somewhere.”

I laughed again. That, I fully believed.  

“But, enough about me,” he leaned against me, nearly enough to roll me onto my back. “Now, you know. What do you think? I know you want to. I just want to know if you think you can.”

Oh, god. This was information I hadn’t known, when I’d gotten into bed with him. True, my own body was stronger now, but so was his, and by a few orders of magnitude beyond mine. Now, it wasn’t my own frailty that unnerved me, but his considerable strength. He was lethal by nature, a predator who I knew wished to make me his prey, if not now, then one day.

“It is so irritating, not being able to hear you think,” he muttered. “What is it darling, why do you look so afraid?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t be?” I asked. “I’ve seen you break beams of iron with those hands.”

“David, I’m hurt,” he didn’t sound hurt. “You think I can’t be gentle?”

“Vampires aren’t meant to be gentle, are they?”

“We can be,” he brought his hand up to my hair, sliding it softly around to the back of my neck. “We can be whatever we like. Oh, I wish Louis were here. He could tell you such stories, from our early days at Pointe du Lac.”

“You wish Louis were here _now_?” I looked skeptically at him.

“Of course,” he brought his face close to mine. “Do you want gentle, David? Or do you just want simple?”

His hand slid down my chest, and then further, just shy of being as direct as he clearly wanted to be. My skin was tingling everywhere his fingers had been. There was evidence enough under the waistband of my shorts that I wanted what he offered. I’d be a fool to deny that.

As much as I hated his self-satisfaction, he had a point. I was no frail and dying thing, not anymore. I was young. I was _strong_.

“Simple,” I began, “would likely be the best way to start.”

I wish I could tell you how he _grinned_ , so full of devilish triumph, but before I could really even see him, he was kissing me. One hand on the back of my neck, he took hold of my shorts with the other and got them out of the way. Fumbling only a little, I did my best to get his shirt open, and then I ran my hands indulgently over the cold, smooth expanse of his chest.

“Do you know, there are some vampires who have no taste for mortal company?” he asked, and now his mouth was right by my ear. “I think they’re missing out, really. You’re so _warm_ …”

He shifted in even closer, and by the time I finally had enough leverage to work his jeans open, he’d hooked one leg over mine. He kissed my neck again, his lips closed but lingering, and I shivered. I heard him laugh softly, felt his voice on my skin.

“Does that frighten you?” he asked.

“Do it again,” I reached down past the open fabric and took the length of him into my hand.

Lestat hummed delightedly against my neck, and quick as a flash I felt him do the same to me. We matched each other’s rhythm after a moment, and close as we were, I felt our bodies, our hands, brush against each other. There was a faint twist in his movements, his fingers so smooth, so _firm_ , and I had never felt anything like it. He wasn’t as cold under my hand, the shaft flushed red with blood, and I felt it twitch when he shook just a little beside me.

“It’s going to be red,” he muttered. “Should’ve said that earlier.”

I was actually about to ask what he was taking about, until I figured it out. …oh. Well. I supposed that made sense, what with their tears, their sweat…for a moment, I wondered what a vampire woman might look like, but that wasn’t relevant.

“…thank you for the warning,” I finally said.

He leaned back enough to kiss my lips again, and below his hips twitched up toward me. I felt so keenly the sounds he made into my mouth, the way his breath stuttered between them. His free hand was wandering over my chest again, and he sighed softly when he drew back, his eyes roving across me.

“Oh, just the sight of you…” he whispered. “You’re longer. I think you’re thicker, too. One of these days, I want to know what it feels like.”

“ _One thing at a time_ , Lestat.”

“David, I’m only talking,” he grinned lazily at me. “Come here…”

He moved my hand out of his way and took hold of us both, and I couldn’t stop the sound that left me.

It’s so difficult to describe the way his body felt, its rigidity, its chill, so unyielding in its form but so tender in its movement. It was so _much_ now, the way his hips began to rock while his hand slid and pulled at us both. I could do little but hold on, trying to move with him but finding myself rather overwhelmed. My voice was pulled from me by the feeling of his length held to mine, the head of his brushing up against me where head met shaft, encouraged by the tilt of his hand. I felt his tongue on my collarbone, hot inside of his cold lips, and I clutched at his shoulder.

“Lestat,” I gasped, “Le- _ah_ …”

I felt his breath on my skin, shaking faintly with his body, and his leg pressed more insistently at my back, holding me to him. His hand quickened, he kissed me frantically, and when my hand found his hair again, he moaned aloud. There was a glint of pride in his eyes, when he looked at me, his movements growing stronger at the sight of my expression.

“ _Oh_ , it’s good, isn’t it?” he said breathlessly, the edge of a snarl making its way into his voice. “Just look at you…”

He enjoyed how lost I was, how helpless I was in his grip. He wasn’t hurting me, quite the opposite, but there were grace notes of danger in the way he spoke, the way he looked at me. This was the vampire, the predator, the hunter, and I should have been afraid. At least, I should have been afraid enough to push him away.

That was the last thing I wanted to do, in that moment, and instead I curved my back a little so I could lean into his movements. I couldn’t say anything, holding tightly onto him and panting for breath instead. Lestat kissed me again, deeply enough that I was dizzy when he drew back, and then his mouth was on my neck again.

“I know you’re close,” he breathed into my ear. “Go on, let go. Nice and loud for me, David.”

I buried my face in his hair, and I did exactly that. My breath stopped entirely when it first hit me, and there was nothing but the jerk and shiver of my body, and the blinding sparks of pleasure behind my eyes. Then, I heard him moan softly, and I felt his lips on my skin, his tongue, everything but his teeth, and I gave a gasping shout. He shuddered, and somehow over my own voice I heard him, “David, _David_ ”, and little drops and splashes of heat landed on our skin.

When it left me, I felt a slow trickle of ice go down my spine. My thoughts weren’t shielded, and I didn’t know how long that had been the case. Slow exhaustion was creeping through me, making it difficult to put it all back together again, everything I had let go. I’d promised myself the day I’d met him, I’d never drop my guard in his presence, and now…

Lestat let go of us both, and with his dry hand he rubbed softly at my shoulder. He looked at me with such fondness, such tender affection that his earlier fierceness might have been a dream of mine. Like this had just been a bit of fun. Like I had nothing to fear.

“Please tell me you wouldn’t be averse to doing that again, sometime,” he smiled lazily.

I was still catching my breath, but I didn’t even hesitate.

“Not at all.”

Oh, I was in trouble, now.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a matter of hours before we would leave for Rio, and not many. I had nothing to pack, myself, as I hadn’t unpacked from my journey over, and so I was waiting downstairs for Lestat to get his bags in order. He had seemed like he’d had a lot to think about, going upstairs to his bedroom, which stood to reason. I had tried to be as warm as possible, when he’d found me in his home, and I thought I’d sort of succeeded. Of course, he had cried, but Lestat did that with some frequency.

Suddenly, I heard a rather loud crashing sound from upstairs, and then a heavy set of footsteps heading down to the first floor. It was Lestat, unsurprisingly, but his face was newly reddened with tears, and he looked not just upset now, but angry.

He didn’t say a word until he was standing right in front of me, and despite his tears, his words were clear as day.

“You wanted it.”

I blinked. Were we still talking about this?

“Yes, I told you,” I began. “How could I –”

“ _No,_ ” he leaned down and pushed my shoulders back into the sofa cushions. “That isn’t what I mean. You wanted it the whole time, but you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You couldn’t let go of your precious dignity, and so you pushed me away, and you pushed me away, until you got what you wanted without having to lower yourself to asking for it.”

For the first time, I truly missed being able to scan his thoughts. He inhaled deeply, and a fresh wave of tears fell down his face.

“You were ashamed of it,” he continued. “I know you were. You headed the Talamasca, after all, the ones who observe, the ones who don’t get involved. It’s much prettier if I’m the monster in this story.”

His voice actually broke on the last word, and the way he grimaced for a moment, the way his lips curled in and he looked away from me, dropped a brick of lead into my stomach. To my shock, I realized this wasn’t just a matter of pride on his part. He was genuinely hurt.

To anyone else, perhaps even to Louis, if he could hear us, this wouldn’t make any sense. Lestat had been the attacker, after all. He’d been willfully cruel, too, mocking my attempts at defense and hauling me about like so much dead weight. What right did he have to be hurt? But, we both knew the whole of the story.

We knew the story of visit after visit, of me declining his offer every time, even when I couldn’t keep the regret out of my voice. Memory after memory of me pushing him away, even when he clung to me and wept at the thought of losing me, but never really, never _really_ doing anything to prevent him from forcing the issue.

Could I have stopped him? No one would ever know. But, I had never really tried. Those spirits of mine had never been a match for him, and of course I’d seen the danger in his eyes, when he had arrived. He hadn’t had to tell me what was going to happen. Nonetheless, I had invited him in.

Oh, this was an ugly feeling. Everything about Lestat was made of wide-swung emotion, jealousy and drama and tumbling from despair back into joy in a heartbeat. He couldn’t seem to hold a grudge to save his life. I had never thought I’d see him like this. I’d never thought that I could really hurt him, and so I hadn’t ever stopped to wonder if what I was doing might cause him pain.

Because, there wasn’t any denying this. Of course, he had seen right through me from the very beginning. He had never needed to read me to know what I had wanted. I’d seen it in his eyes, when he would look at me with this confusion, unable to figure out why I kept refusing him when I clearly wanted what he had.

I inhaled deeply, and I chose my next words very carefully.

“…do you want me to apologize?” I asked softly.

“I want you to acknowledge it,” he hissed. “Put your stuffy, repressed English sensibilities aside for a single moment, and _tell me the truth_.”

I knew what I had to say next, of course, but even though I knew it was killing him, it was so hard to form the words. It was like turning over a stone, unaware of what unsavory things lived underneath it. It felt like admitting a weakness, a vulnerability, admitting that I was just as bad as he was, that he was not the only one at fault.

“Lestat, is this really…”

“ _Yes_ ,” he looked disbelievingly at me. “David, do you really expect me to believe you’d forgive me so quickly? So thoroughly?”

I’d actually been hoping he would. That made guilt twist in my chest, not for the way I’d acted before, but for how distractible I’d hoped he would be. The hurt I saw in him now was active; I was causing it even as we spoke. Did I think so little of him, he was wondering, that I thought I could brush everything off just like that? Oh, David. You’re a fool, you know that?

“Alright, I wanted it,” I finally said. “Of course, I did. What do you think it was like for me, Lestat? I had lived a life, a long, full, human life, and I thought I was writing the last few pages of it. I was ready to close the cover and call it done. What do you think it was like, to have the devil himself to walk right up to me and start _flirting_?”

“You pretended not to know what I was doing,” he said flatly.

“I couldn’t believe it!” I found it hard to gesticulate with him holding my shoulders down. “I didn’t want to believe you were serious, and then when I realized you were…I couldn’t handle it. You’re so _much_ , Lestat. It’s like being loved by fire. My life wasn’t about fire anymore, when you found me. So yes, I kept it under a lid. I couldn’t bear to overturn the life I’d made for myself at the very last minute.”

“But, you wanted to,” he sounded less angry, now.

“God, yes,” I said softly.

“…how long had you loved me,” he said softly, “before you finally said it?”

I sighed heavily, my body going slack with exhaustion.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “I only realized it when you said you were going to die, and my heart broke in two.”

His hands fell from my shoulders, and then he leaned in and kissed me softly.

“I love you too, David,” he said.

Hesitantly, I reached for him, and he climbed into my lap, resting his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his tears warm the fabric of my shirt, likely staining it, but I wasn’t about to object. He held tightly onto me, still so much stronger, but he didn’t feel quite so shockingly cold.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured. “I thought I was just going to give you the gift, and then I’d never see you again. You’d just be afraid of me, the way everyone else is.”

“…Louis isn’t afraid of you,” I said softly, this statement based primarily on the few conversations I’d had with Louis since I had arrived.

“Ha!” he looked at me with mirth in his eyes. “That’s a good one, David. You’re going to be lots of fun when we’re in Rio, I can already tell.”

“We can’t leave until you finish packing, you know,” I said.

“Shut up,” he set his head back down. “Let me convince myself you’re really here.”

We didn’t end up leaving quite on schedule, but I didn’t mind. By the time dawn arrived, we were all tucked in next to each other in our hotel suite’s bed, Lestat on his side between us. With Louis’s arm around his waist, he took my hand in both of his, and the last thing I saw before the death sleep took me under was his soft, bittersweet smile.  


End file.
